


one step at a time

by zimtlein



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Awkward First Times, Cunnilingus, Dorks in Love, Established Relationship, F/M, First Time, First Time Blow Jobs, Porn with Feelings, Post-Reveal Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir/Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug, Roleplaying their alter egos for a confidence boost
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-09
Updated: 2020-07-09
Packaged: 2021-03-04 19:07:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,256
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25161376
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zimtlein/pseuds/zimtlein
Summary: Exploring the depth of their relationship, Adrien and Marinette take it one step at a time.
Relationships: Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir/Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug
Comments: 22
Kudos: 208





	one step at a time

**Author's Note:**

> I imagine both of them are about 17 in this one-shot, maybe even 18. Hope you enjoy!

“Ha! Suck that, Agreste!”

Snorting, he watches her thrust her fist into the air. Loud noises come from the TV in front of them, declaring his defeat. His whole room gets filled with Marinette’s sounds of triumph before her eyes meet his, and she shrinks into herself instantly.

“Sorry. I got excited.”

“Not like you beat me every single time anyway.” Adrien grins.

“Well,” she blinks at him from underneath her lashes, “get better?”

“Ouch.”

“N-no! That’s not – I mean, you could get better. If you tried.”

Adrien laughs. “Wow.”

“No! I don’t –” With a frustrated whine, she puts the controller away and crosses her arms. “You know what I mean.”

“Sorry.” He smiles at her. “I do.”

His heart gives a thump at the mere thought, but he still wills himself to put a hand on her knee, feeling her warmth beneath her clothes. She gives a start at the touch – when doesn’t she? – and pouts at him. There’s something enticing to the way her blue eyes catch his, to how her pink cheeks glow. Her neck, her delicate shoulders. The curve of her breasts, her small waist, her perfectly formed legs. He would be allowed to touch her, he knows as much. Would be allowed to look at her with the same longing he feels. Yet his eyes snap up to her face again, his stomach stirring.

Her cheeks have become even redder. It should be easy after weeks of dating each other, but it isn’t.

“Can I,” he begins, and gives a choked sound. “I mean …”

“What?” She seems just as fearful as he feels, watching him with wide eyes.

“You … You know.” Carefully, he scoots closer, raising a hand to brush some strands of hair behind her ear. She watches his movements, stilling entirely. “I just,” he tries again. Leans forward. A shiver seems to run through her, and she uncrosses her arms, slowly closing her eyes. The way she slightly puckers her lips is just too cute. Everything about her is. With her eyes closed, he can look at her more thoroughly. At the shape of her collarbone, the soft curve of her neck, how her chest expands with her quick breaths. His fingertips tingle to feel all of her.

He sees her eyelashes flutter open, and quickly, he closes the gap between them until his lips finally taste hers.

A gasp escapes her. She smells sweet, and she tastes even sweeter. A light kiss, another one, his hand on her cheek. Soft, warm skin. He presses a longer kiss against her lips, his hand sliding down to her neck, to her shoulder, down her arm. When they break apart, he discovers how brightly red her cheeks are. Watery eyes look up at him. He feels a tremor go through his body.

It’s not like he never thought about it. About her soft skin underneath her clothes. About discovering the curves of her delicate body. About tasting her in places he can’t properly think about without getting embarrassed. It’s not like he never saw particular videos, or read about particular things, or imagined doing things to her he wouldn’t even dare say out loud, but he still feels frozen in place.

Entirely frozen.

It’s not the first time they stare at each other in silence either, neither one of them moving.

Marinette takes a breath. With still reddened cheeks, she raises her hands and places them on his shoulders. Her brows furrowed, she looks him in the eyes. Seconds pass. She doesn’t move. He doesn’t move. His shaking hand is still resting on her knee.

“I’m sorry!” she suddenly squeaks as she lets go of him, and she slides to the other end of the sofa, effectively removing herself from him.

And there they are again. At step one.

He internally sighs at himself. They did make out before, and it always ended in embarrassment – because one of them made a yet unknown sound, or because one hand wandered somewhere it had never been before, or because one got too nervous and backed out with a laugh. Adrien regretted his cowardice every time. But whenever he wanted to be bold, push himself, go that one step that Marinette didn’t dare – he fell back again.

“Don’t be sorry,” he mumbles, draping his arms over the backrest.

“We are dating,” she says, drawing her knees close and placing her forehead against them. “So why is this so – so hard? Even though …”

He looks at her. “Even though?”

“I kind of – I …” With a frustrated sound, she raises her shoulders and drops them again. “This would be so much easier if I could just be like Ladybug.”

“You are Ladybug.”

“You know what I mean!”

He does. Because it would be easier if he could just be like Chat Noir, too. Bold, without a filter, able to do what he so desperately wants to do. Chat Noir would have no problems pulling her close, touching her in ways that keep him up at night. Chat Noir would have no problem whispering things into her ear Adrien doesn’t know how to utter.

It would be the easiest solution. So …

“We could try,” he blurts out before he can hold himself back.

A second of confused silence. She looks up.

“I mean.” He feels heat climb up to his neck. “I mean, there is a difference when I’m Chat Noir, isn’t there?”

“You want to turn into Chat Noir so we can make out?”

“I think,” he replies, scratching his cheek, “that we shouldn’t involve our kwamis. Preferably.”

“Preferably,” she repeats, eyes wide and brows slightly drawn together. “So you – you just want to act like … like Chat Noir?”

“And you could act like Ladybug.” The suggestion alone is somehow embarrassing, and he ducks his head. “If you want to.”

“Um. I …” She laughs nervously. “That’s, without the actual mask … Will you even be able to keep up the act?”

That’s what he is wondering too. Still, he plasters on the same smile Chat Noir likes to show, sliding closer until he can set his cheek on the backrest right next to her. “Princess! Doubting me like that … _Meow_ you’re hurting my feelings.”

Through the veil of nervousness, her lips curl into a smile. “Ah, right. You can be pretty cheesy when you want to.”

Her face falls for a moment at her own words. Before she can start apologizing wildly, he reminds himself that he is Chat, and that Chat never takes himself too seriously, and he slides just the tiniest bit closer.

“Admit it, princess. I am so _purr_ suasive that you can’t resist me.”

“You,” her smile returns hesitantly, “um, just for the record – your puns are absolutely _claw_ ful.”

Something builds on his face, a smile so excited it almost hurts in the corners of his mouth. Channeling everything that is Chat Noir, he slides even closer, elbow on the backrest as he sits up, the movements as fluid as possible. “My heart is racing with _purr_ joy when you’re being that punny, my bug.”

“Silly kitty,” she giggles. Tentatively, she reaches for his head, softly running her fingers through his hair. Just like she would with Chat. Concentrating on the spot between where his cat ears would usually sit. A tingling sensation trickling over his skull, settling on the base of his neck. He doesn’t even notice he is closing his eyes until a little laugh makes him aware of his surroundings again.

“That’s cute,” she mumbles.

He gives a questioning sound.

“You’re purring.”

It’s only then he detects the rumbling sound in his throat, the vibrating feeling deep inside his chest. Something Adrien is absolutely embarrassed about. Who the hell does that, purring like a cat? But he’s Chat, he thinks, and Chat doesn’t mind acting like a cat, obviously, and he lazily blinks at her. The expression on her face makes his heart pound wildly.

“You’re cute,” he mutters, leaning closer to her. Marinette retracts her hand, and she backs away slightly, cheeks assuming color again.

“Chat, you –” She interrupts herself. “Adrien. I mean, Adrien –”

“Chat,” he corrects.

“Chat,” she repeats. A thump sounds as he lands on the sofa, staring up at him out of blue eyes. His hands left and right to her head. Her pink lips parted. Her loose pigtails sprawled out beneath her. As long as he is Chat Noir, there is no need to run. His arms are trembling, and his breaths are shaky, but there is no need to hide from her.

“Yes, my lady?”

“I …” She averts her gaze. Bites her lip. Her full, luscious lip.

“You?” He touches her jaw, his fingers sliding lower. Her whole body trembles underneath him. She squeezes her eyes shut, a breath escaping her, bordering on a little sound. Something inside him lights up. His finger stops at her collar, doesn’t move further. “You what?”

“Chat.” She loosely grips the arm still holding him up, peeking at him just for a second before looking away again. “I just … Um.”

“Cat got your tongue?” With a grin, he leans down. His breath ghosting over her cheek, making her shudder beneath him. “ _Purr_ haps you should tell me what exactly you want, princess. As _paw_ some as I am, I can’t read your mind, you know?”

She laughs, turns her head until their lips almost brush. “I want you.”

He chokes.

“Um, Adrien, was that too – I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to –”

“You _want_ me?” He grabs her chin gently, moves until he can look into her eyes. “In which way?”

Her nails dig into his arm. Without the possibility to turn her head away, Marinette’s eyes try to focus on anything but him. In the end, they find their way back to him, holding his gaze with trembling lips.

His blood is singing in his ears. He can’t stop staring at her. Slowly, his lips return to hers, stopping just short of kissing her.

“In this way?” he whispers against her skin.

She nods tentatively, the movements causing their lips to brush against each other. An electrifying feeling surges through him, settles in his chest. He dips further down. Another chaste kiss. Her breath hitches. His hand glides from her chin, fingers tangling in her hair as he wills himself to be bold. Another kiss, harder, more demanding until his tongue tastes her sweetness. A surprised sound comes from her, melting into a mewl as she parts her lips for him. Somewhere along the line, her arms have wound around his neck, and when they break apart for a second, she pulls him closer right away, kissing him so greedily that a groan tumbles from his throat.

“My lady is getting impatient,” he chuckles, pressing a kiss against the corner of her mouth. With a discontented sound, she tries to kiss him again, but he doesn’t let her. Instead, his lips wander lower. A kiss under her jaw, on her neck. He hears her little pants, feels her rapid pulse. Liquid fire pools in the pit of his stomach, and his teeth lightly scrape her sensitive skin, causing her to give a whiny sound.

He likes that, he discovers. He likes that a lot.

He’s getting lightheaded. There’s something too alluring to her lips, and he takes a taste of them again, unable to help himself. Their tongues meeting, teasing, and he almost jolts when she nibbles his bottom lip, pulling until slight pain turns to hot pleasure. He swallows her pants and gasps eagerly, one of his hands wandering lower and lower until it stops at her breast.

His heart races. He squeezes. The fabric of her shirt and her bra are in the way, but it seems to be soft, and a sudden instinct awakes the urge explore it in every way possible.

And beneath his lips, Marinette gives a strangled sound.

“Sorry,” he quickly says as he backs away, forgetting for a moment who he is supposed to be.

“No,” she mumbles, blinking at him out of heavy-lidded eyes. The sight of her swollen lips, her rosy cheeks – his stomach drops, and arousal pools between his legs. “In this way. I want you in this way.”

He’s getting nervous. He can’t let himself get nervous. He is Chat Noir, after all. So he exhales shakily and sits up above her. His fingers are trembling as he reaches for the hem of her shirt.

“Adrien?” she whispers. “I mean, Chat.”

He looks at her. She props herself up on her elbows, her breaths still a bit too quick.

“We could,” she says, “if you want to stop, we …”

“I don’t.” He said it too hastily, and he tries to hide his tenseness by clearing his throat. “Do you?”

“No.” She eyes him up and down, and albeit there is a shimmer of bashfulness in her eyes, her look makes him feel hot all over. “I … For some time already, I wanted to … Um …”

Impatience makes his fingers even more clumsy as he pushes her shirt up. Still, he reminds himself to be slow, to give her every chance to back out again. He feels the beating of her heart underneath his fingertips and gulps. It takes him way too long to find not only his voice, but a response Chat would give too.

“You wanted to what?”

“Chat,” she groans, falling back into the cushion. “Don’t make me say it.”

“Make you say what?” He grins at her. Lets his fingers trace the line of her collarbone, bared before him.

“Chat,” she whines. The begging undertone makes a shiver run over his spine.

“ _Fur_ real. I have no idea what you are talking about.”

“Chat – oh –” Any word gets stuck in her throat, withering to a tiny breathless sound as his hand finds her breast, cupping it carefully above the fabric of her bra. His heart is beating so fast it’s almost dizzying. Her skin is soft, and when he leans down to press a kiss against her sternum, he discovers how intoxicating she smells. A mix of lavender and pure Marinette. He involuntarily groans, kissing a trail over her collarbone, lower again.

“This,” she pants. “I wanted you to do this, and to – and to, I wanted to – I want –”

Her words get interrupted by a surprised shriek when he pulls her upwards, placing her on his lap. From this position, he can finally pull the shirt over her head, revealing creamy skin and soft curves. A red bra with black dots. His mouth waters. How many times has he dreamt of having her in his arms like this? Being able to worship her, taste any spot of her perfect body until she trembles beneath him? His fingers slip underneath her bra’s clasp, and he hears her hum in impatience.

He looks up at her face, waiting for a confirmation. Their eyes meet. There is warmth to her that shakes him to the core, and she lowers her forehead until it touches his, the tip of her nose brushing his skin.

“I want you, Chat Noir,” she breathes, each word heavy with longing.

He swallows. His years of working in the model industry at least taught him how to properly open a bra, but he is nervous enough to need three attempts. Her breath hitches when the garment slips from her shoulders. Carefully, he removes it for good. Kisses her, kisses her again, kisses her collarbone, kisses the valley between her breasts. Feels her thundering heartbeat. Leans back to look at her, from her flushed face to her exposed chest. Perky, with pink nipples, the perfect size to be squeezed in his hands. He licks his lips, feels a rumbling sound vibrate in his throat.

“You’re staring,” she mumbles, and raises her arms to hide her chest.

“Sorry.” His eyes snap up to hers again. “You’re just … You’re stunning.”

She gives a little laugh. “I don’t know about that. I mean, aren’t they …” She presses her arms closer to her body. “Kind of, uh, well … Small?”

Adrien’s eyebrows shoot up. Then, carefully, he grabs her wrists and removes her arms from her chest. “Marinette. You are perfect.” Slowly, he raises a hand to cup her breast, marveling at the way she shudders under the touch. He traces the underside, closes his palm around it. Squeezes just the tiniest bit. Soft, warm, the perk of her nipple pressing against his palm. He circles his thumb around the pink bud. The touch elicits a tiny moan from her, her back arching as she leans into the touch.

“See? Perfect,” he purrs. Circles her nipple again with more pressure until her hands grip his shoulders, holding onto him. He flicks it lightly, and her nails dig into his skin. Her gasps turn to tiny whines. “Perfect size. Perfect form. You’re beautiful, Marinette.”

“Chat …” His name is a plea on her lips, and heat floods him in an overwhelming wave.

He recalls everything he has ever seen in those videos he totally only watched out of curiosity. Once or twice. Yep. It’s different, he realizes. It’s gentler, more meaningful. All he wants to do is touch her all over, explore her body and her warmth and get lost in her. He isn’t sure if his instinct can be trusted, but he follows it anyway, leaning forward to press a kiss against her neglected nipple. She shudders, almost crying out when he licks the sensitive skin.

“Does that feel good?” he asks, looking up at her from underneath his lashes.

She gives a strained sound. “Stop teasing me.”

He grins against her skin. “I wouldn’t dream of it.” He pulls her closer, feeling her thighs press against his hips. “Tell me what to do.”

“I don’t – I don’t know!”

“Then tell me when to stop.”

She flushes an even deeper red and nods slowly.

Carefully, he tries scraping his teeth over her skin. Hears her exhale soundly. Then he bites into the pink bud. Only softly, increasing the pressure just the tiniest bit. Her reaction is almost immediate. A breathless cry, her hips rolling against his. The sensation makes him hiss, heat pooling between his legs, and when he pinches her other nipple between his fingers, she rocks against him again. Any trace of thought leaves him, his whole head a mess as he instinctively licks and sucks, eliciting tumbling moans from her that get louder with specific spots. When his thumb rubs her nipple just lightly. When his teeth scrape her skin. When he sucks harder than before, and she starts pressing him closer, her moans high-pitched and desperate.

“Chat,” she begs. Grips his hand playing with her breast and pushes it lower. Lower still, until he reaches the waistband of her jeans. She unbuttons them for him, tugging at them impatiently, and he chuckles.

“Already so excited?”

“What does it look like?”

“And getting cheeky, too.” He leans back. Looks at his work. At reddened skin, tiny bite marks. At her eyes, heavy with lust. He shivers from head to toe. Grabs her arms and pushes her back into the sofa’s cushion. She complies without fighting back. When his fingers slide underneath her jeans’ waistband, she hides her lips behind her hand.

“Sorry,” she mumbles. “You’re right. That was rude.”

He shows her a lopsided grin. “I like it when you’re cheeky.”

She gives a sound between a groan and a whine, and he slowly peels the jeans from her legs, revealing more and more skin. Red panties with black dots, suiting her bra. He laughs under his breath, finally able to look at all of her when her jeans are exposed of. Her flat stomach, the curve of her waist. She looks beautiful. Angelic.

Biting her lip, she turns her head away and crosses her arms over her chest. There is tension in her expression, her forehead wrinkled.

“Hey,” he mumbles, softly stroking her hips, her thighs. “Marinette. Look at me. Are you all right?”

She laughs nervously. “Sorry. It’s just … You must have seen so many models, and … No, it’s stupid. Forget it, sorry.”

He cocks his eyebrows. “Models? Your kitty is pretty handsome, I must admit. But I’m no model.” His grin gets broader. “Thank you, though.”

She turns her head, looks at him for a few seconds until she seems to get it. Her amused smile is contagious and makes him giddy. “Ah. Maybe you’re right.”

“Of course I am.” Carefully, he removes her arms again, revealing her anew as he watches her whole face turn red. As he slides closer, she wraps her legs around him loosely, and he feels his heart beat up to his throat. A sudden urge moves him to touch her inner thigh, to slide his fingers closer to her core.

“Your turn, Chat,” she mumbles. Her thigh rubs against his side, and the action makes the heat become unbearable.

“My turn?”

“To show me your model potential, you know.”

He is met by her warm smile. Then he gets it. Wiggling his eyebrows, he reaches for the hem of his shirt and slowly pulls it upwards. Centimeter by centimeter. Fabric restricts his vision for a moment, and when he emerges again, he sees Marinette staring at him, wide-eyed and with an expression of hunger.

“Like what you see?” he teases, flexing his arms.

“Maybe.” She blinks a few times, her blush darkening. Then she stretches her arms out for him. “Come here?”

He lets himself be pulled closer. Lets sweet lips slide over his, lets curious hands roam over his chest and stomach, lower still. A gasp as her palm slides over the bulge in his pants, and he gives a choked groan, lips close to her ear. “Marinette. You’re killing me.”

“Sorry,” she whispers.

“If we want to …” He kisses the shell of her ear, forces himself to go on. “How far do you want to …?”

A beat. “Chat – if you don’t mind – but, um, my actual first time, I want it to be with …”

“With Adrien?” He laughs quietly. “I get it.”

A sigh. “Thank you.” She turns her head, her whole body until he is forced to lie down next to her on the narrow sofa, and she gives his lips a peck. “You’re allowed to touch me, though.”

“I am allowed to?” He kisses her back, cups her cheek. Fingers sliding over her spine to her behind, giving it a squeeze that makes her hum. “What an honor. I thank you from the bottom of my heart, princess.”

“You’re welcome, silly.” She grabs his hand. Guides it over her hips and to her stomach. Her breathing quickens, and she searches his eyes. “That is, if you want to touch me?”

His stomach is in knots. He could touch her forever, he thinks.

“Yes,” he whispers.

There isn’t too much space on the couch, so their heads pump together once or twice while she is trying to find a better position on her back, her hip eventually pressing against his erection (which doesn’t really make things easier) and her right leg draped between his. But he doesn’t mind. Especially not when she keeps looking at him, grabbing his hand and guiding it lower, underneath her panties’ waistband. Their eyes stay locked, and the hunger inside hers only spurs him on further.

Her small hand takes hold of his pointer and index finger. Everything inside him starts to tremble. He feels hair, and warmth, and then, she pushes his fingers between her folds. He inhales sharply. Wet, and hot, and slick, and damn it, he feels like he is melting together with her, his hips involuntarily rubbing against her thigh as she coats his fingers in her wetness, dragging him further up again. More heat, and then her hand presses his fingers against a particular spot.

“Oh,” she mumbles. Closes her eyes for a second, shuddering in front of him. “Chat. Here.”

He watches her reactions as he experimentally moves his fingers over that spot. A soft bud, easy to miss, and yet just a little bit of pressure makes her mewl in sweet desperation. He bites back a curse as he tries differing the angle, the pressure, the pace. Her legs start shaking, one of her hands holding onto his wrist loosely without really guiding him. He watches her expression. The way her lips part. Her shiny cheeks. How she reacts to anything he does. At first, slow and light does it, and he increases the pressure steadily. Heat builds in his abdomen, makes his thoughts feverish. She is beautiful. A goddess. He is painfully hard by now, watching as her back arches, as moans tumble from her lips, cracking at the seams.

He can’t look away from her. She is too pretty. She sounds too enticing. He wants to see her fall apart. He wants her to say his name. Only when she does so, he realizes that he mindlessly uttered his thoughts. She doesn’t seem to mind, though. Quite the opposite.

“Go on, princess,” he mumbles into her ear. “Let me see what it looks like when you come for your kitty.”

“Chat,” she whines, and sobs, and throws her head back. “Faster – just a bit – oh, Chat …”

He happily obliges, feeling her body tremble under his hand. Her moans get stuck in her throat, break on her lips. She becomes almost entirely silent, the only sound remaining her quick breaths, her hips starting to comply to his fingers’ movements and her legs quivering. Her thigh still rubs against his crotch, and he can’t hold back groans of his own, wavering into words of encouragement that he growls into her ear.

The moment she shatters is magical. The way her whole body tenses, back arched, mouth forming an “O”, eyebrows furrowed as if entirely overwhelmed by sensations. Deep, feral moans spill from her lips. Her thighs won’t stop shaking, her hips moving almost frantically until slowly, all tension falls from her face, leaving nothing but bliss and heavy breathing. The sight of her reaching the peak because of him, the flutter of her eyelashes as she looks at him, all peaceful pleasure – it’s enough to make his own hips stutter, rubbing against her warmth and softness, and then she rests a hand on his cheek.

“Come on, kitten,” she whispers with a warm smile.

It doesn’t take much more. The heat snaps violently, makes his muscles constrict, makes wild pleasure cloud his mind. He feels lips on his as warmth spills between his legs. She keeps kissing him through it, until his whole body slumps, until all that is left is his racing heart.

For a moment, he keeps his eyes closed. Neither speaks.

Then he realizes that he just –

“I have to,” he splutters. “Bathroom. I, bathroom.”

She looks at him, her grin turning a bit mischievous. “I think that was cute. I mean, I didn’t know it’s even possible for a boy to only –”

“Bathroom, sorry,” he repeats hastily, and quickly leaps from the sofa.

After cleaning up, he reminds himself that he is Chat Noir. And Chat Noir would never leave a girl he just slept with lying on the sofa all on her own. He smacks his cheeks, tries not to constantly think about how her chest heaved when she tumbled over the edge, how angelic her face looked, how her cheeks glowed and …

This is harder than he thought.

When he reenters the room, Marinette isn’t on his sofa anymore. For an irrational moment, he panics, thinking she left without a word – but then he discovers her in his bed, only her head peeping out from under the blanket. She watches as he comes closer, holding up the blanket and letting him climb in next to her.

“Sorry,” he mumbles, cupping her cheeks, pressing a kiss to the tip of her nose. “I shouldn’t have just left you there.”

“I forgive you.” She hums. “Since you were so embarrassed, kitty. That was cute. Really.”

“I …” He ducks his head. “I wasn’t … I mean …”

Giggling, she taps against his lips. “Now cat got your tongue, huh?”

God. He can’t get enough of her.

“Will you stay the night?” he asks, nuzzling the crook of her neck. “If it isn’t too much work for you, I mean. Nathalie usually doesn’t visit my room in the morning, and you could just slip out whenever, and …”

“I’d love to.”

He smiles against her skin, a soft purr escaping his throat as her fingers massage the spot where Chat’s cat ears would sit.

Evening sun in her hair. He can’t stop kissing her, her taste enough to make his thoughts swirl. His hands are restless and greedy as they explore any spot of naked skin they can reach, and she sighs against him, hands on his cheeks as she leans back.

“Let me be Ladybug this time.”

Adrien blinks at her. “And I am?”

“Adrien, of course.” She blushes up to the tips of her ears. “Or is that, um, is it weird?”

It’s the kind of fantasy he pictured thousands of times before he knew she was Ladybug. Most of the time, it was him being at her mercy. With how determined Marinette looks, that part of his fantasy doesn’t even seem too unlikely. He feels heat climb to his cheeks.

“Of course not.” He clears his throat. It’s late evening already, their kwamis having found their own little hiding space somewhere in the mansion – he supposes watching two teenagers getting it on isn’t the most desirable sight, so he can’t blame them – and during their kissing, they’ve ended up in his bed. Marinette wiggling on his lap, lips swollen from his kisses.

“I mean.” She places her hands on his shoulders. The grin she shows him is a bit shaky, yet teasing, and her words become a deep purr. “It wouldn’t be the first time you dream of something like this, right, Adrien?”

“Uh,” is all he manages to say.

“I could, um, fulfill … fulfill your …” She pauses, then averts her gaze. “Okay. This is more difficult than I thought.”

“Try not to think too hard about it?” he offers. “Because honestly, anything you say makes me want to kiss you, so …”

Her eyes find his again. He ducks his head in embarrassment.

“Anything?” she asks.

“Well …”

“Anything,” she repeats. “Aw. Adrien, you’re so cute.”

“I’m … That’s not …”

“Really makes me want to kiss you all over,” she mumbles into his ear, cupping his cheeks.

Heat coats his chest.

“Your cheek,” she continues, her lips illustrating her words by pressing against his skin. “Throat.” He shivers as her hot breath flows over his sensitive skin. “Chest. Stomach. Hips.” Instead of gliding lower, she raises her lips to his again, her whispers a warm breeze. “Your …”

Her hand finds what she doesn’t say out loud, and he chokes at the sudden touch.

“Is that what you dreamt about?” she asks, voice surprisingly steady. She’s almost overwhelming, and he finds himself panting from only that single touch. It’s somehow ridiculous, but he still he has to hold himself back from mindlessly grinding against her.

“I …”

“No need to be shy. What did you dream about, Adrien?”

She keeps palming him through the fabric of his pants. Her breath quickens, and he watches as she licks her lips in anticipation, that single innocent motion making incredible warmth pool in the pit of his stomach. His arms are starting to tremble, and he tries not to think too hard about it.

“I want to taste you.”

She stills, her eyebrows shooting up. “Taste …?”

“I want to,” he shrinks into himself, “eat you out?”

“Oh.” A dark blush creeps over her cheeks.

“Only if you are okay with it, of course. And I never did it before, so I might not even be good at it, and anyway, that’s stupid, we could wait, we could …”

“That’s what you fantasized about?” she asks, eyelashes fluttering.

“Well …”

“Oh, Adrien.” She leans forward and kisses him. Sweetly, longingly. Both her hands on his shoulders, holding herself upright. “Oh, you sweet thing.”

Ladybug’s words are so appreciative that he shivers. When she climbs off him, the loss of warmth makes him give a discontented sound. Then she takes his wrist, guiding his hand to her breast. Through the fabric of her shirt, he discovers that she isn’t wearing a bra.

For a moment, his brain stops working. This is happening. His fantasies are going to become true, and this is happening. He almost feels like passing out.

“Come on, Adrien,” she says, the sweetest of smiles on her lips. “Do what you dreamt of doing to me.”

Does she even know what she is saying? Her aura of pure confidence implies as much, and she watches him out of patient eyes. Carefully, he squeezes her breast, and she closes her eyes with a shivering breath. She’s beautiful. She is so breathtakingly beautiful.

He worships her in every way he knows how. Kissing every spot of naked skin, pushing her shirt up to touch her, feel her, caress her. She starts to pant, tiny moans slipping from her lips when he gets just the tiniest bit rougher. His shirt is off first, and hers follows, and he suddenly feels hungry, greedy, wanting to devour her, wanting to make her cry out and lose her cool and all her control. Be hers in every way.

His excitement makes him nervous, but he still manages to push her jeans down. After exchanging a look with her, her panties follow. He is acting on instinct, listening to the little voice inside him whispering about his desires, and he sinks to his knees before her, nudging her hips until she is sitting on the edge of the bed. With flushed cheeks, she looks down at him, heavy breaths escaping her.

Then he looks down at her wetness. It’s the first time he can see the most intimate part she could offer him from up close. Dark hair hides almost everything from sight, and after tossing another careful look at her, silently asking for permission, he slides closer. Hands on her inner thighs, feeling them quake underneath his touch. Thumbs feeling for the spot where her legs and hips connect, closer, gently pulling her folds apart. He has to gulp, once, another time, inspecting the glistening slickness, her intoxicating scent hitting his nose.

“Are you going to stare all day, lover boy?” Underneath her teasing words, her voice is quivering. It’s endearing and hot at the same time. He looks up at her, bringing his mouth closer to her core.

“I could, if you want me to.”

She quirks an eyebrow. “Getting bold, are you? Cute.” She lifts her legs, letting them rest on his shoulders. The new position automatically brings him closer to her heat. “Gotta walk the walk too, then. Come on, go ahead.”

Her command makes him shudder all over. He leans further forward, closer, until his lips finally get a taste of her. The first touch alone rips a moan from his throat. She tastes incredible, entirely unique, sweetness mixed with the faintest hint of sourness, and his tongue traces her slickness. He hears her mewl, and when he looks up, he sees her head being thrown back and her shoulders trembling.

“That’s good,” she rasps. “Oh, that’s good. Right there, just right – oh, Adrien …”

He starts to suck her most sensitive parts, tries to drag more sweet sounds from her by varying his motions. He can’t get enough of her. His tongue probes her entrance, and the touch makes her yelp, hips meeting his movements. When he does it again, entering her just the tiniest bit, a hand sneaks into his hair and presses him closer.

“Oh god,” he hears her sob. “Don’t stop. Don’t you dare stop.”

Seeing Ladybug just short of losing control makes something snap inside him. He sinks his fingers into her hips and holds her in place, concentrating on her taste, on the way her nails dig into his scalp. Her moans become more honest, wilder, her thighs holding his head in place. He moves up to her bundle of nerves again, licking and sucking and gently biting into it. Her reaction is a cry, a fountain of praise and the order to go on, not stop, god don’t stop, and he doesn’t. Not until her legs are tensing, her hip stilling, her breaths becoming soundless gasps.

He looks up at her face. At her chest, her arched back, her quivering muscles. She is pure beauty, falling apart from the core to the edges, crumbling beneath his lips, and she is chanting his name, riding higher and higher, erratic movements and high-pitched sounds until she can’t hold on properly. Until her body stills for an endless moment, longer and longer, and then falls back, leaving her a breathless mess.

He gulps, her fingers still loosely in his hair as he reaches for his pants’ waistband, slipping his hand underneath it. With his other hand, he wipes over his mouth, leaving nothing but her taste on his skin.

“Good boy,” she mumbles, and sits up, a lazy smile on her lips. Maybe he should be embarrassed and stop, but he grabs himself underneath his layers of clothes anyway just as her eyes fall between his legs, the touch eliciting a hiss from him.

She quirks an eyebrow. “Oh. Hm. That won’t do.”

Their eyes meet. Her mischievous grin makes everything inside him shiver.

“I want to see you. Come on, off with your clothes.”

He licks his lips, coated in her taste. With her legs still resting on his shoulders, it’s a bit more difficult, but he manages to pull his pants and underwear down until he is revealing all of himself. A tiny hard breath escapes her, and her heavy-lidded eyes fixate his member. Adrien resists the urge to duck his head, his cheeks becoming awfully hot.

“Go on,” she tells him, fingers softly raking through his hair.

His hand closes over his length. Her scent is still lingering in the air, her legs opened before him, his actions having left her core swollen and red. His eyes wander over her perfect form up to her perfect face. Kissable lips forming a little smile. He thrusts into his own hand, swallowing a moan.

“Don’t hold back, lover boy,” she says. “Let me see you pleasure yourself.”

The indecency of Ladybug saying something like this – he groans, precum already coating his length. He’s so hard that he is sure it won’t take much longer. He imagines his hand being replaced by hers, by her lips, by her warm wetness, and his cheek rubs against her thigh, lips seeking her skin to press kisses against it. Her fingers tug at strands of his hair, urging him on.

“Enjoyed eating me out so much, hm?” She sounds sweet, teasing, powerful. “Such a good boy. You deserve a treat next time. Maybe I’ll even let you pick one yourself. Show me your beautiful face when you come, sweetling.”

He moans her name – Marinette, Ladybug, both – as his thrusts become quicker, more desperate, hips bucking helplessly. Her skin carries her intoxicating smell, and he buries his face on it. Her words are sweet like honey, dripping down his skin until his heart is about to explode. The heat becomes too much, pleasure flooding every vein and fiber, and he sinks his teeth into her soft thigh to smother his cries as he finally comes, heat making him blind for everything but the rapid beating of his heart, warmth spilling over his own hand and heavily dripping down onto his thighs.

“Cute,” she giggles, grasping his chin to make him look at her. He feels tired, the afterglow making his smile sluggish. “Let’s get you cleaned up. Lay down. Let me do the rest.”

He’s about to fall asleep when Ladybug appears next to him with one of his towels, kissing his forehead before cleaning him, and for a moment, he asks himself how he deserves a girl like her. It takes a minute until she climbs into bed next to him, snuggling up until he can wrap his arms around her and pull her closer. She is soft and warm and smells so wonderful that he emits a sigh.

“You’re perfect,” he mumbles into her hair.

“I doubt that.” With a smile, she gives him a peck. “You’re pretty awesome too, though.”

He laughs.

One moment, Marinette is kissing him deeply, a moan tumbling from her lips. The next, he feels her hands gripping his wrists, pushing them over his head. Adrien lets her. Curious, he watches as she sits up. Her bed is soft, her blankets smell like her. At least her parents aren’t home to accidentally catch them in the act – they did voice one or two embarrassing observations and warnings, but Adrien doesn’t mind too much. Normal parents being normal parents, he supposes.

Marinette seems oddly determined, he realizes as he feels fabric closing over his wrists, and when he tugs at his hands, it becomes clear that she has bound them to something.

“Marinette?” His voice is an octave too high. She looks at him, her smile a bit nervous, yet warm.

“Ladybug.”

“Oh.” He blinks. “Ladybug, what are you …”

“Why, kitten. I think it’s your turn.”

“My turn?”

“It was always about me.” She kisses him, hands slipping underneath his shirt, feeling for his muscles. He shivers. “So this time, this is going to be about you.”

“Uh …”

“Look, Chat.” She kisses his throat, lets her breath flow over his skin. He takes a shaky breath. “You’re so good at giving. You make me feel like a goddess every single time.” She pushes his shirt up, spreading kisses all over his chest. To his nipple. He didn’t think it would feel good, but the touch makes him give a little sound. “I want to give some of it back. Is that okay?”

“But why …” He tugs at his restraints to finish his thoughts.

“Oh, that?” She shoots him a devilish grin. “That’s just for fun.”

Heat raises to his cheeks. But he is Chat Noir, he reminds himself, and the snort he emits is definitely not bashful. “Kinky. Wouldn’t have expected that from you, my lady.”

“Then let yourself be surprised.” She skimmies out of her shirt, unclasps her bra. Her perfect breasts bounce as she wiggles on his lap. He already feels unbearable heat in his abdomen, and the movements of her hips don’t make it any easier. “Like what you see, kitty?”

“You know I do.” He tries to sound smug despite the slow desperation setting in. Being unable to touch her is becoming torture.

Her thumb grazes his lower lip. “If it’s too much, then call me Marinette. Okay? I’ll free your wrists as soon as you do.”

Caring about him so much even when she’s actively torturing him. Adrien wants to laugh, but her thumb is still on his lip, and he leans forward to wrap his lips around it. Her eyes darken as she watches him, his tongue swirling around the tip until she removes her thumb with a plop.

“You can be such a good kitty when you try.” Her wettened finger circles her nipple, her breath quickening audibly. “Maybe I should tie you up more often.”

The thought alone makes his thighs quiver. Being fully at her mercy, no possibility of escaping, her cheeky smiles and torturous voice, her hands playing with him until she has him right where she wants him. He holds back a groan. “Wouldn’t be against that, love bug.”

“Kinky. Exactly what I expected from you.” With a breathless laugh, she pinches her nipple. Any sound she made turns into a moan. She cups both her breasts, plays with them in all the ways he knows she likes – only more roughly, more hastily. Her hips slowly roll against his, and he can’t help but search for more friction.

“Already so excited?” She smiles at him between her gasps, cheeks bright red and eyes set ablaze. “That’s cute.”

“Can’t help it when a goddess is playing with herself atop of me.”

She laughs, leaning forward to kiss him. “Charmer,” she mumbles. Tongue tasting his lower lip, teeth biting into it until he groans. Her naked chest is pressing against his, soft and warm. He wants to touch her so badly it hurts, and her hands roam his body, fingers brushing any place they can reach until they stop at his hips.

She kisses a path down his chest, down his stomach, to the waistband of his pants. Sending him a look, she starts pulling his pants down and over his legs. He can’t do anything as her lips press against his length through the fabric of his underwear, and he buckles into the touch.

“Ladybug?” he mumbles.

Her eyelashes flutter. “Yes?”

“You don’t have to –”

“I know I don’t. But I want to.” Her fingers hook underneath the waistband of his underwear. “I really want to suck you off.”

She said it with unshaking confidence, but the words still leave him quaking. “Hearing such dirty words from my lady’s pure mouth …”

“Noticeably turns you on?” She chuckles, pulling his underwear down until his length springs into sight. Licking her lips, she brings her mouth closer. Her breath washes over sensitive skin, and he hisses. “Yep. Thought so.”

“You’re a tease.” He laughs. “I’m impressed.”

“Only learned from the best.” And with that, her hand grabs his shaft and her lips wrap around his tip.

It’s almost too much. Her tight, hot mouth. Her soft fingers. The way she looks at him – big blue eyes, hair falling into her forehead, innocent and yet with a shimmer of amusement that tells him she knows exactly what she is doing to him. He feels like he is dreaming. He feels desperate, utterly defeated, and when she takes him deeper, he feels –

“Teeth,” he hisses.

She blinks, lips leaving him with an indecently loud sound. “Teeth?”

“It kinda …” He clears his throat. “It doesn’t, when you use too much teeth …”

“Oh.” She blushes up to the tips of her ears. “I’m sorry. I’m new to this.”

“Hey. No problem, bugaboo.” He channels all his courage and sends her a grin. “I can guide you through it.”

She seems torn, her façade of Ladybug cracking just the tiniest bit. Still, her voice is firm when she answers. “Fine. Just this once.”

His mouth dries. Being at Ladybug’s mercy is one thing, but having her in his hands? Giddy excitement pulses through him, and his grin becomes lopsided. “Wrap your lips around the tip.”

She does. Something about her look seems irritated at the loss of absolute control. His heart starts racing even faster.

“Try to only use your lips. Not your teeth.”

She mumbles something around her mouth full of, well, him. Judging from the way she still stares at him, she doesn’t seem utterly convinced. Still, she hollows out her cheeks, her brows furrowing in concentration.

“And now,” he gulps, “try to take it deeper. Keep using your lips, and your …”

Wetness engulfs him. He groans, her soft lips taking him deeper, her tongue – god, her tongue tapping over his skin, pressing against it harder, swirling, and he is losing all senses, desperate not to close his eyes.

“Your tongue,” he manages. “Like that. And your hand …”

She seems to understand, her hand moving up, then down, effectively covering all of him.

“You can grip harder.”

Brows still furrowed, she does. It feels fantastic, and it looks even better, with her cute behind up in the air, her lips on him, her hand working him to her best ability. It isn’t perfect, but it doesn’t have to be, not when the fact that she is trying to pleasure him like this is almost sending him over the edge on its own.

She bobs her head up, her tongue scraping a particular spot, and his moan turns to a helpless whimper.

His cheeks turn hot. Her eyes shimmer with delight. “Cute,” she mutters, continuing her work as she searches for that spot again – and finds it.

“Ladybug,” he says, not anticipating how whiny his voice sounds.

She isn’t able to answer though. The only sound she makes is a moan as she closes her eyes and keeps taking him in. Slowly at first, then faster. She seems just as turned on by her own performance as he is, and that thought alone is hot enough to make every fiber of his being fill with heat. He is starting to pant, to whine, to thrash, and when his hips involuntarily buckle into her mouth, she gags and backs away.

“Mari- … Ladybug, I’m sorry, I …”

“Got too excited again?” She clears her throat, presses her cheek against his length. Precum is already dripping down his skin and onto her cheek. She looks amazing in this position, and her warm breath washes over his most sensitive spot. “That’s okay. I’ll take it as a compliment.” Her eyes turn sharp. “I expect it not to happen again.”

Her tone makes his whole body shudder. “Of course not.”

“Good.” She kisses the base, up the length, the tip. Tongue gliding over the leaking slid, slowly and carefully, catching every drop she can. Then she takes him in again.

He tries his best to control his hips as she continues. She seems determined, and when he begs her to go faster, she complies. Head bopping up and down, her hot mouth surrounding him, and he can’t hold on any longer, can’t stop the warmth from seeping to his abdomen.

“Ladybug,” he hisses warningly.

She looks up at him, not stopping her movements. Their eyes locking, pleasure shining in her bright blue. Pretty lips stretched around him. The sight alone is too much – the heat snaps, and he comes before he can stop himself, spilling into her mouth, his moans mingling with the sounds she makes. She furrows her brows, working him through his orgasm. When his breathing calms down, she finally removes her lips, swallowing with a pensive expression.

He almost becomes hard again right that instant.

“Eh,” she makes, shaking her whole upper body. “Strange.”

He gulps drily. His throat feels sore. “So, can I …?” He tugs at his restraints again.

She blinks. Seems to contemplate. Looks down at his semi-hard member, and he wonders how his body can even have that much stamina. Not that he is complaining, though.

A grin plays with her lips, and her hand slips down to her jeans, sneaking underneath them. “Don’t think we are quite finished yet, are we?”

Adrien groans, eyes glued to her perfect body, asking himself yet again how someone like him deserves someone like her at all.

Her parents aren’t home, and the movie they watched on her laptop is ending, and he hears her sigh against his chest. Marinette is curled up to his side, tears shining in her eyes. “That last scene,” she whispers, her smile blissful. “Oh, I wish …”

She interrupts herself, closing the laptop hastily.

“You wish?” Adrien probes, unable to hide the amusement laced through his voice.

“Uh. Nothing.”

“You wish someone would confess their undying love for you in the rain?”

She smacks her hands against her cheeks, sliding away from him. “Maybe? No? Yes? Depends on the person? Not anyone? You know, I mean, no, that’s so cheesy, who would like that, I sure wouldn’t, I’m not, you know …”

“Then it’s a date. You and me, as soon as we catch a rainy day again.”

Silence. He slowly realizes what he said, and her cheeks turn red, and his turn hot, and with a nervous laugh, he rubs the back of his neck. They are still under the same blanket, and her smell is slowly making his thoughts swirl.

“Woops,” he mumbles. “Kinda got too cheesy there, huh? My Chat Noir must be showing.”

She is still just looking at him. Wordlessly.

Before he can get them out of this awkward situation, he hears her move. Hands grabbing his shoulders. Determined blue eyes locking with his. They are still glazed over, shining with an adoration that makes his tongue feel heavy and useless. Something shifted in a matter of seconds, and for whatever reason, it makes his heart race in his chest.

“Adrien,” she mumbles, seemingly searching for words. Instead of uttering them, she leans forward and kisses him.

A sweet kiss. Chaste and short. She moves back again, and before her warmth can leave him, his hands are already on her waist, pulling her closer again. Instead of kissing her, he looks at her. Beautiful blue eyes. His hand reaches for her cheek, knuckles grazing her skin. She watches him, and he watches her, and he feels lost in the overwhelming feeling of adoration. Her presence alone is a gift he can’t quite handle.

“You’re amazing,” it slips from his lips. “Incredible.”

She blushes an adorable pink. “I – don’t say that.”

“It’s the truth.” He can’t help but smile.

“Adrien …”

“You’re beautiful, and so brave, and every time I look at you, I just know –”

Before he can continue, lips press against his. Not sweetly this time. A bit desperate, a bit feverish, tasting him again and again. Tongue darting out to tap against his lips. She straddles his lap, fingers tangling in his hair. Something about the way she kisses him makes his heart almost burst. Something about her quaking breaths and soft touches makes a mess out of his mind.

She presses herself closer, hips sliding over his, her breasts against his chest. “I want you,” she breathes onto his lips.

He jolts. It’s not the first time she said it, but the first time she is no one but Marinette, the first time he is no one but Adrien.

“I want you so much.” She almost whines before kissing him again. “Please. I want you so much.”

His heart racing, he brings his hands to rest on her waist and looks at her face. At her lips, at her eyes.

“Do you want to be …”

“I want us to be Adrien and Marinette.”

It’s an unspoken fact that such a scenario entails something big, something entirely new. Something that only they can share – everything that is Marinette, and everything that is Adrien. He pulls her closer, surrounded by the scent of her pillows and her blankets, and presses a kiss to her forehead.

“Are you sure?”

“Absolutely. Unmistakably.” She grabs his face, guides him to look at her again. “What about you?”

A dry laugh escapes him. “Always. I’d always want you, Marinette.”

He shows her by kissing her deeply, by letting his fingers glide underneath her thin shirt, by touching her and swallowing her sounds and caressing her skin. She is softness and warmth, enough to get lost in. There is no need for teasing, no need to be bolder than they really are. Every motion feels coy and a bit hesitant. He blushes all over when he pulls her shirt over her head and opens her bra, and her cheeks assume color when she does the same to him, timid fingertips tracing the line of his muscles as her lips part in fascination. They went so much further before, and still every touch feels like discovering her anew, reactions he has seen so many times and yet never before. Every feeling is new, terrifying, enticing.

He doesn’t dare say anything as he softly grabs her arms, attempting to switch their positions. In his nervousness, he manages to bump his head against hers. They both flinch back. Look at each other.

“Guess we’re way smoother as our alter egos.” He tries to make it sound like a joke. It comes out as a nervous statement.

She giggles. It sounds tense. “Maybe we just need practice.”

“Practice being our civilian selves?”

She blinks at him out of endlessly blue eyes. “Practice doing this.” With that, she gently pulls him to the side, laying down underneath him and wiggling her body until she seems to feel comfortable. Her legs are parted, her thighs touching his hips. “See. Wasn’t too hard, right?”

“Yeah.” He can’t even tease her back. He can only stare at her, her exposed chest, the soft curves of her body. On a sudden whim, he bends down to press a kiss over the waistband of her shorts, hands gliding over the insides of her thighs. “I love how you smell. Can’t get enough of it.”

He feels her shudder, hears the hitch of her breath. “Adrien …”

His heart is a mess. Despite having seen each other naked several times before, his fingers are shaking when he removes her shorts, her panties from her hips. He spreads kisses over her hip bones, travelling further up, pressing his lips gently over her nipple. She inhales sharply, a sound so sweet it goes right through him.

“Adrien.” His name on her lips, pleading and longing, and when he kisses her, he forgets about everything else. She touches his back, opens his pants, pushes dem down together with his underwear. Grabs his butt so fiercely a surprised sound escapes him.

“Sorry,” she mumbles, pulling him into another kiss. “Couldn’t resist. You have a nice butt.”

He can’t help it. Laughing against her lips, he keeps touching her. Softly at first, then feverishly, her breaths becoming shaky, her lips finding their own path over his throat. He knows how to pleasure her, knows what to do to make her whine beneath him, knows how to tease her, but his sudden impatience gets the better of him. She is already so wet his fingers have no trouble wrenching a moan from her throat. She throws her head back, breathing unsteadily as he presses butterfly kisses over her exposed neck.

He saw her like this before. Of course he did. But it’s different when there is nothing to hide. It’s different to know it’s Adrien working Marinette into a dizzying high, it’s different to see her melt underneath him with the knowledge that any wall has fallen and every mask is removed for good. Her whimpers and mewls are all for him, and he bathes in every single sound she makes.

His fingers are shaking when he sees her reaching for the little shelf above their heads. Hidden inside a little wooden pot, their secret hiding space. She doesn’t manage to grab it, and Adrien stills his movements, making her whine in discontent.

“Don’t stop.”

“You’ll push all your books off the shelf if you try to reach it like that.”

She grumbles, her thighs sliding along his hips. He has to swallow down a groan. “Okay. Then help me.”

He does, even though he has to sit up to do so. Kneeling between her legs, he needs three attempts to open the plastic package. She must sense his nervousness, because before he can roll the content over his length, her small hand comes to rest over his.

“I’m really nervous too,” she whispers.

“We could stop.”

She looks at him, rosy lips parted. “I don’t want to. God, I don’t want to.”

His heart is quivering. He lets her help with the condom, her small hand touching him tenderly. For some endless seconds, they look at each other. Then, biting her lip, Marinette lays down again. Trusting him completely. Giving herself to him in every last way. It’s almost overwhelming, almost too much, and he softly lets his fingers graze her cheek until she closes her eyes.

Gently, he spreads her legs. His heart is almost exploding. Then he positions himself at her entrance and slowly, ever so slowly, pushes in.

The first few seconds are torturous. Her face contorts, and she tenses up, and he asks her five times if everything is all right until she shakily exhales and tells him to continue. He doesn’t. Instead he bends down to her and kisses her face, any spot he can reach, kisses her until he feels her relax underneath him. When they become one, anything else loses its meaning. When they become one, his whole body is flooded by her, by the way she breathes and by the way her heart is beating and by the way she grabs his arms and whispers his name. Their bodies impossibly close, heated skin against heated skin, seeking each other and pushing back and pushing on. Their kisses erratic, her heat engulfing him anew. It becomes messier, and a hunger grows inside him, a hunger he has never felt before, deep and gnawing in his stomach. She wraps her legs around his waist, pulling him deeper, urging him to go on, her moans sweeter than they have ever been before. He almost wants to cry, seeing her giving her all to him, and giving everything he has in return. Their foreheads meet, her gasps breaking on his lips.

It’s more than lust. It’s greater, vaster, more consuming. It’s something that makes his heart tremble. It’s so beautiful he breaks apart just by thinking about it.

Afterwards, she falls asleep in his arms, her face peaceful, and not for the first time, he thanks the stars a girl like her happened to fall for a boy like him. Carefully he kisses her forehead, holding her as close to him as possible.


End file.
